Thankful
by SandraDeee
Summary: On Thanksgiving Eve, two old friends reconnect and discover they have much to be thankful for-namely, each other.


**Disclaimer: ** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Thankful**

"I'm glad you decided to come with me tonight." Gail Green's blue eyes studied her older son, and as usual, he seemed to be thinking about far more than he said. Of course, the tilt of his chin and the way he shifted from one foot to another as he surveyed the crowd coming down the steps of the church building, a searching stance if ever she saw one, told her plenty. That, coupled with the fact that all throughout the service, her son had been unable to keep his eyes off the pretty brunette who sat opposite them in the sanctuary. Oh, he tried to be subtle, looking straight ahead and only allowing his eyes to shift, but for anyone sitting next to him, it would have been as obvious as a neon sign.

And Gail was relieved. Thrilled actually_. _

_It's about time_.

She had always heard that adversity made a person stronger, but she would never have wished the challenges Jake had had to endure on her worst enemy, let alone on her beloved son. The struggles to keep the town safe, the battle with New Bern, the loss of Johnston, the escape to Texas with a stolen nuclear bomb, losing Emily in an ambush while he was away, being on the frontlines of a civil war, the injuries he had sustained, helping with the rebuilding efforts…

She brushed away the thoughts of all the maladies that she knew she could continue to rattle on. She needed to focus on the positive because if she didn't, it would be too easy to slide into despair.

At times like these, Gail was grateful for the man he'd become. Through the years, their bond had always been strong. Even as he and his father butted heads, she and Jake never lost that closeness, that understanding of one another.

Now that he was staying in Jericho—not because of lack of choice, but because this was where he wanted to be—her heart swelled with gratitude. Despite all this, she had so much to be thankful for, and she had resolved to not limit her shows of appreciation to just the holiday set aside for thanksgiving.

"You're hard to say no to," Jake replied looking back to his mother, trying to refocus his attention on her.

Gail's brows lifted. Going to Thanksgiving Eve services at the church wasn't how Jake preferred to spend his evening. She knew this. Knowing him, he'd rather spend his time shooting pool or even tending to the animals at the ranch. But there was a certain advantage to being a mom and pulling out all the stops—and the world-renowned tickets for a first-class guilt trip. "It's a gift," she replied, pleased with herself. Her voice dropped so her next comment would remain between the two of them. "At least you kept Mr. Sewter out of my hair for the night."

Jake grimaced. "Candlelight services. Didn't want anyone getting any bright ideas."

It was natural that men would look at his mother with admiration. She was, after all, bright and attractive. However, Deville Sewter, a relative newcomer to town, had been rather insistent with his affection for Gail Green. Jake knew he couldn't lump Sewter into stalker-restraining order territory yet, but he silently dared the man to take one step over the line.

Jake continued to survey the crowd, trying to look casual. People they knew passed them, nodding their hellos or stopping to ask them if they were planning to listen to President Charles's radio address. Small talk wasn't a particular talent of his, but his mom excelled, so he continued to scan the crowd. One person remained conspicuously absent. Soon, the number of people dwindled to just a few who loitered, discussing Thanksgiving plans and how it would be the best since the Day of Change.

"She's not come out yet," Gail commented. Her knowing tone made Jake want to protest on principle, but his mother knew him too well, and he supposed he hadn't been particularly subtle. At least not where his mother's prying eyes were concerned. "You know," Gail continued, "you could always go inside. Talk to her."

"That would be…"

"The smart thing to do. Everyone's saying she'll be leaving soon. Now's your chance."

"To complicate things?" Exasperation crept into his voice. "I already did that once."

"Johnston Jacob Green, Jr., who said life is always going to be simple? And since when did you _ever _miss an opportunity to complicate things?"

Jake realized he was in trouble when she called him by his full name, but when she crossed her arms and gave him _the look_, he knew she wasn't going to leave him be. "You going to be okay getting home by yourself?"

"It's not that far," Gail assured him. "Go. I know you want to." She patted his face and turned to walk away.

With matters of the heart, her son sometimes needed a nudge, but ultimately, she knew he never did anything he didn't want to do. And this, he wanted.

* * *

The light from the candles cast an other-worldly glow in the small chapel, a glow that seemed to grow brighter as the last few from the crowd filed out of the church, taking their shadows and conversations with them. Jake stood in the back of the meeting room, watching as Heather Lisinski remained in the hard, wooden pew.

She must've wanted to be alone. Otherwise, why would she stay behind when everyone else left? With his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, he turned to give her privacy, but almost as quickly planted his feet. He'd turned away too many times.

Tonight would be different.

He walked down the carpeted aisle and slid next to her into the pew. Her brows lifted in surprise.

"Hey." His simple greeting, accompanied by the slight uptick of his lips, made Heather smile.

"Hey yourself."

"Thought it was a good service tonight." That was a casual conversation starter. It sounded appropriate. One step up from talking about the weather. Yet the words felt foreign as they came from Jake's mouth. He sure hoped she didn't ask him to elaborate on what was good about the service because he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to. He'd been too busy rolling through a tumult of thoughts and emotions where she was concerned. Maybe some part of him figured she'd be there when he got his act together. Maybe some part of him figured he'd never get his act together and it was a moot point. All he knew was she wasn't going to be there in a few weeks, and he'd been going around for days, ever since he'd found out, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. He had debated between action and inaction.

Heather cleared her throat softly. "This may sound awful, but I never really thought all this," she gestured around them, "was really your thing."

Jake chuckled slightly. "It's not," he admitted as he ran his hand along the polished wood of the bench in front of them. "My dad used to make me come. Hated it. As soon as I was old enough, I stopped coming. Pretty much only went to church on special occasions. Weddings. Funerals. Holidays. You?"

Heather was silent for a moment, imagining the rebellious young man Jake must've been. He could joke about it now, but from what she knew of how determined Johnston Green had been and how hard-headed his son still was, those must have been some battles!

When she finally spoke, her voice held a tinge of nostalgia. "Growing up, every time the church door was open, I was there. Twice on Sundays. Even on Wednesday nights. I never questioned it. Even after my parents were gone and I moved here, I warmed the benches every Sunday."

Jake wasn't surprised. From the moment he'd met her, Heather Lisinski exuded goodness and patience. Not that Jake figured people had to go to church to be decent human beings, but there was a sense of wholesomeness about her that he didn't often find in anyone, particularly these days. Any woman who could so cheerfully explain the difference between left and right—through a broken leg and bump on the head—to a group of scared, whiny kids was pretty special. Yep, any woman who could boss around the good ol' boys with a smile on her face, or persist until she found out the real circumstances surrounding a friend's death, was not cut from a common cloth. It had at once made him want to be around her—but it also had made him want to run in the opposite direction. She wasn't the type of woman a guy messed around with; she was the type of woman a man made a home with. He saw that right off the bat, and the fact that his mind went in that direction—well, that scared the hell out of him. "Maybe you can put in a good word for me," Jake joked.

Heather shook her head. "I don't think I'm one to talk. With the attacks…and going to New Bern…" her voice trailed off momentarily. "Somehow it felt strange coming back, and so I just didn't. For more than two years. Not until tonight."

"Why tonight?"

She spoke wistfully. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind. Remembering things. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. That was always such a big holiday for my family."

"Mine, too." His mind drifted to the impatience he used to feel as his father carved the turkey, how they used to take turns telling what they were grateful for each year. He cringed inwardly at some of the smartass comments he used to make when his turn came to share gratitude. All he'd cared about was gorging himself on the feast. The punk kid he used to be never knew what real gratitude or hunger was.

Heather shifted in her seat, turning her body so she could look at Jake square on. She extended her arm along the back of the pew where they sat and propped her head with her hand. "Oh? What were the Green family traditions?"

"The usual. Football and turkey. Our extended family would get together, play football over at Legion Park, make Eric cry like a girl. No offense."

"None taken," she replied dryly.

"I remember this one time he was playing running back. Emily tackled him, absolutely ran him over." A look of confusion shone on Heather's face, and Jake explained, "Well, he was about 10 at the time, younger than us, and Emily'd already hit a growth spurt. The ball popped loose, went up in the air, and she—" Jake stopped his story short, pursed his lips, and cast his gaze to the wooden beams on the ceiling. It had gotten easier. Time and distance had seen to that, and he was grateful, but her absence hit him at the strangest times.

"It's okay," Heather affirmed. "I miss her, too." She reached out to seek his hand, and once her fingers intertwined with his, she gave his hand a squeeze.

As he felt her small but sure hand wrapped with his, Jake was brought instantly to the present. It was a kind gesture, a friendly one, but at the same time struck him as so intimate. Yet looking at her, seeing the sincerity in her blue eyes and the way her forehead was creased with worry and her own sadness, he realized she was completely unaware of how her gesture had affected him. "So what about you?" Jake replied, changing the subject. "Was it football and turkey for your family?"

"Not exactly," she replied, drawing back her hand from his. "My dad would open the church building—he was a minister—to those in the community who had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving. We'd spend the whole day cooking and then serve meals in the fellowship hall. It was a lot of work, but my dad made it so fun. When everyone else had left and we were on cleanup duty, I remember how he'd do his Elvis impersonation, and he'd change around the song 'Teddy Bear' to make it 'Heather Bear'…" She took a deep breath. "I…I hadn't thought of that in ages."

"Sounds fun. My dad used to sing," he paused for effect, "Neil Diamond."

Heather 's nose crinkled. "That's hard for me to imagine."

"It's more merciful that way. He was awful."

"What about you? Any hidden singing talents?"

"Hell no." Jake stopped, looked around his surroundings, and shook his head ruefully. "I'm gonna burn for that."

"I always wished I had that talent," she replied with a longing sigh. "In junior high, I got the brilliant idea to enter the school talent show to get the attention of Johnny Smythers. I imagined it would be like the movies. Quiet, shy, studious girl wows the cute, popular boy with her song, enabling him to see past his misconceptions of her. Of course, all the major talent scouts from Hollywood would be also in the audience."

"Oh naturally."

"At New Bern Junior High." She paused with humorous effect. "In Kansas."

"So what happened?"

"About halfway through my rendition of 'Eternal Flame,' I realized that my singing sounded a lot better when I was in the shower with the sound of the water to drown me out. I didn't get the boy, and I earned more than my share of laughs. But as a consolation prize, I did have plenty of time to strip wires."

Looking at the charming and self-assured young woman next to him, Jake tried to picture her as an awkward teen girl. Her quirkiness and goodness sometimes made people underestimate her, but over the past three years, he had learned what a mistake that was. Realizing he was staring, he turned his gaze to the candles that adorned the stage.

Heather slid her arm from the back of the pew and clasped her hands together. "I'm sorry. I've been rambling. Did you need help with something?"

"What? No."

"Oh, I thought since you were…"

Jake rubbed his hands on his blue jeans, finally resting them on his knees. "Guess it seems like it's the only time we've talked lately. When I wanted something, I mean."

"I'm sorry, Jake. I shouldn't have assumed."

"Haven't exactly given you a reason to think otherwise."

Heather found herself at a loss for words. It was in this lull that the two became aware that they weren't alone. Reverend Brown's gentle clearing of the throat made it clear he was ready to close up for the night.

"I guess that's our cue," Heather said standing, silently grateful for the reverend's interruption. Jake followed suit.

"Could I walk you home? Make sure it's safe?"

"Thanks, but I'll be fine, Jake. I'm a big girl, and the threats stopped a long time ago."

"Who said anything about keeping _you_ safe? I thought maybe you could keep _me _safe," Jake replied with a straight face.

The look of mock sincerity on Jake's face had Heather fighting not to giggle. Trying to maintain a straight face herself, she responded, "Well, I suppose I should do my civic duty, _Sheriff_ Green."

The two said their goodnights to Reverend Brown and headed out of the church building. For the most part, the streets were quiet. Many of Jericho's inhabitants were undoubtedly at home. President Charles's radio address was due to start soon, which likely accounted for Reverend Brown's figuratively shoving them out the door.

The two walked along the sidewalk, greeted by the cool November night wind, and sights of familiarity. The Cyberjolt Café, which had once been the Pizza Garden and the source of teasing between the two, was set to reopen soon, pending the government's lift of Internet restrictions.

Gracie Leigh's Market still stood, though in the place of the weekly advertised specials which used to hang in the floor to ceiling windows, a picture of Gracie was positioned, along with a placard commemorating her life. On the first anniversary of her death, there had been a rumor about Dale closing it for the day, but as 7:00 A.M. rolled around, the doors opened. It was business as usual, though all who encountered Dale that day reported that his bartering was less than generous and matched his dour mood.

"Three years," Heather murmured. "It seems so long ago in some ways. And in others, it seems like just yesterday."

Jake nodded. Gracie's death had ushered in a new era in Jericho. Hers had been the first murder in over a decade, and to a populace that was already on the brink of panic from the bombs, the shattering of their sense of safety—no matter how much an illusion that safety was—changed everything. Gray won the election against his father. A mob mentality set in as people sought her killer, nearly taking the life of an innocent man. And Dale, who had always been so quiet and unassuming, emerged from the experience as a power player. "I knew her all my life. The woman never stopped gossiping. "

"She's probably ratting out St. Peter as we speak," Heather quipped. "Did I ever tell you about the time she almost got me fired from teaching?"

Jake did a double-take. "What?"

"It wasn't intentional, and she did feel bad about it," Heather backtracked. "But I had bought a home pregnancy test. For a friend," she quickly added, "and Gracie mentioned it in passing to Mrs. Simcox, whose brother-in-law was on the school board. Well, that gossip was just too juicy to keep to herself, so Mrs. Simcox had to tell her sister, who told her husband. The details got changed along the way, and before I knew it, the rumor was that I was pregnant."

"And who was the lucky father?" Jake teased.

"Oh, that was the kicker. I didn't know who the father was." She shook her head. "My 'situation' was put on the agenda at the monthly school board meeting. With the morality clause in my teaching contract supposedly broken—I was an unwed, promiscuous, and pregnant elementary teacher who was certain to corrupt the young children—I was on the chopping block. Luckily, cooler heads prevailed. And obviously, time and a flat stomach were on my side, too."

"Oh God," Jake groaned. He'd had a similar experience. As a high school junior, the first and last time he bought condoms at Gracie Leigh's, she told his father. That had prompted an hour lecture on responsibility from his father and a wink from his grandfather.

Lesson learned. From that point on, Jake drove the twenty minutes to New Bern.

Heather continued. "I have better memories of her than that, though. Like how she donated the food for the cookout that we had right," she pointed toward the center of Main Street, "over there."

Jake remembered that night with mixed emotions. The whole day leading up to the cookout, actually, had been a rollercoaster. He'd found a downed plane, dealt with Emily's ire, and they had all been trying to piece together what had happened beyond Jericho. At the cookout, Heather had been so pensive after learning the truth of Scott Rennie's death from Shep. Jake had worried about her, brought her a piece of chocolate cake, and proceeded to eat it from her plate when he thought she wasn't looking. She had noticed, however, but laughed. That laughter had been music to his ears, and as the two both joked and brainstormed ideas, he could push aside his own worries for a time—his worry over Emily and her anger toward him, his worry over what would happen to his family and to their town.

"It turned out to be a good night," Jake commented.

"It was," Heather agreed. "Even if I did discover that you are a _terrible_ cake thief."

"Yeah, but who brought you the cake?"

"Excuses, excuses," she replied with an exaggerated sigh.

"I'll have to make it up to you."

His casual suggestion made Heather's face feel hot, despite the cool temperature outside. "So, do you bake?"

"How hard can it be?"

"Certainly not any tougher than wiring explosives."

They chattered on about nothing and everything, keeping the tenor of their conversation light and affable. Before they knew it, they were outside her small house standing on her porch.

Heather fished the key to the front door from her jacket pocket. A part of her wished she hadn't been able to find it. Earlier, thinking about Thanksgiving and how she had no one with whom to spend it had her spirits low, but now she felt like she could take on the world. She hadn't laughed so much since she couldn't remember when. Being near Jake had stirred up an attraction for him that she had tried to bury. After two false starts, it seemed foolhardy to go down this path again, but where had being sensible gotten her? The truth was where Jake was concerned, her senses tended to fly out the window. Being with him could feel like the highest of highs. The problem was that principle of gravity: What goes up must come down_. 'Stop it! Stop over thinking everything!'_ _she silently chastised herself._

"Thanks for walking me home, Jake."

Jake's hand close around a white post that, in the moonlight, looked more gray than white. The wood felt cold against his bare hand, but still he clung to it. "Thanks for keeping me safe along the way."

Heather grinned. "So who's going to keep you safe on _your _way home?"

Jake's brows furrowed. "That's a problem, isn't it? You're a problem solver. What's your solution?"

Heather tapped her chin with her index finger, as though in deep thought. "Do you want to come in for awhile? Until the danger passes, I mean. I was going to make some coffee, and I have some Irish cream I've been dying to use."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

_the end of a new beginning_...


End file.
